


Lying, Waiting, or Dating? (this is not a multiple choice exam, it’s your life)

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, Houston Aeros, Lies, M/M, Minnesota Wild, Queer Themes, canadian girlfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you now, or have you ever, had a girlfriend in Canada?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lying, Waiting, or Dating? (this is not a multiple choice exam, it’s your life)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is partly a response to how so many often awesome hockey fics go from people admitting/realizing they have feelings about each other to boning without any pause. This story is mostly about the inbetween.
> 
> The details of when this story takes place are really unclear, but let’s say it’s in the 2010-11 AHL Season? I didn’t look at any schedules, but that makes the most sense. I’m not sure if this works with ages and American drinking laws, but, well, hockey players, right? That isn’t a big deal. And there’s a joke about a Barons player who might not have been playing for the Barons at this point, but I like it, so whatever. _FICTION._
> 
> Also, this contains approximately zero percent hockey. I didn’t realize this until I was mostly done.
> 
> Betaed tenderly by Stellarer, who also put up with me talking about this idea, puts up with me all the time. She is amazing at grammar and logic and untangling metaphors. Any mistakes left are my own.

Normally Marco is so good at not noticing people noticing him. A reputation for being oblivious is better than questions about why he isn’t interested in talking to pretty girls. He’s a dork, but he’s a good looking dork, which isn’t really intentional. He needs his body to play hockey and his face just happened to him. It’s a nice face, he knows this, and he’s lucky to not have broken it yet, though it’s probably just a matter of time.

He doesn’t have as much practice not noticing guys who notice him because that usually only happens in times and places when he wants to get noticed by guys. It doesn’t usually happen when he’s with the team.

They’re in Chicago, spread throughout the bar. Some guys are trying to pick up, some others are playing pool. Marco is staring at his drink, not looking at the man who’s looking at him, and ignoring Matt kicking him under the table.

“You’re really obnoxious,” Marco tells him.

“Well, you’re boring,” Matt says. “Don’t you want to make a new friend?”

“No, don’t you?”

“I have a girlfriend,” Matt says, which isn’t a revelation. He’s been bragging about it lately.

“I don’t believe you,” Marco says. “Nobody has a girlfriend in Canada. That’s just something people say.”

“You’ve told me about your Canadian girlfriends.”

“I’ve made up Canadian girlfriends for practical purposes. You’re just a sad man who won’t admit to lying. Or maybe you actually met a girl over the summer. But you’re probably lying. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

They’re both bullshitting, but it’s casual falsehoods. They know enough of each other’s truths that the choice to continue with the usual lies is _fun_ ; they’re both in on the joke.

As much as Marco tries to keep his private life private, mistakes are inevitable, and sometimes he can’t not talk. If he has to have a confidant he could do a lot worse that Matt. Probably. Hack is all intense goalie weirdness, which is mostly using his position as license to act peculiar, while accentuating some genuine issues. It’s a pleasant contrast from the way Marco works to tap down his idiosyncrasies. Together they will take over the world!

No they won’t, but they’ve talked about that possibility before, and what to do in case of a zombie attack, and what to do if the OKC Barons are secretly witches. (Because really, what kind of name is Magnus? A Swedish name? Not likely.) They bullshit, they play make believe, the Mayans can predict the future, and Marco can have a girlfriend in Canada.

“Someday people will want to meet this girl,” Marco says. “What are you doing to do then? Admit defeat?”

“No way. But even though she is quite real, she’s so much better than you guys that introducing her to this team would be bad boyfriend behavior. You’re right, it’s a puzzle.”

“What are you going to do? Admit you’re lying?” Like many frequent liars Marco tends to believe that most other people are also not telling the truth, and take a certain amount of pleasure in seeing folks get caught in the mess of fact contradicting fiction. 

“I have a plan for this,” Matt says. “We’re going to get you a wig and you’re going to be my Canadian Girlfriend.”

“Me? Really? I’m honored.”

Matt’s awfully pretty when he smiles.

“No, for real,” Marco says, cutting off that line of thought. “I’m prettier than your actual Canadian Girlfriend, aren’t I?”

“Oh, for sure, you’re just the prettiest ever. It isn’t even fair. I think of how pretty you are and weep.”

“Thank you, thank you, that’s just the way it should be.”

Matt laughs. “Now that your ego’s gotten its fix can I talk about how I really do miss my Canadian Girlfriend who totally isn’t made up?”

Marco takes a moment to consider, before saying, “Well, if you must.”

Then Matt’s off, in rapture and adoration. He’s stupid about this girl, who’s probably real, unless Matt is sending and receiving texts from a figment of his imagination. Marco’s glad that Hack’s happy, but golly it’s _boring_

His mind wanders. The man at the bar is still there. He’s pale, with a generous array of freckles on his face; Marco can’t help but wonder if this continues down his chest.

Matt kicks him under the table again. “You should go over there. It’s not like a bit of fun’s going to kill you.”

Well, it could, but Marco’s smarter than that. The condom in his pocket is, to quote _Grease,_ “a twenty-five cent insurance policy,” though costs have risen because of inflation. Safe sex and musical theater references: Marco is good at the being gay thing sometimes.

“I probably shouldn’t,” Marco says, the truth for once, but god he wants to.

Hack takes a long swallow, finishing his beer. “Probably is bullshit.” He picks up and drains Marco’s bottle too. “Oh look, the beer’s gone. You have to go up to the bar and get some more. Take your time, I’m going to see if Gilles is up for darts.”

Then Matt’s gone and there’s nothing in Marco’s way. He’s being pushed into making poor life choices. It isn’t up to him.

Really he shouldn’t do this, not with everyone around. This is a terrible idea. But Chicago is alright. He could go out here to pick up or just to drink and look without worry.

He goes up to the bar, waits to get the bartender’s attention, and stares out of the side of his eye. The guy isn’t super hot. Cute, sure, but not all that. Marco could probably do better somewhere else.

He orders, waits, deliberates, and brings the single bottle back to Matt. Says, “Don’t wait up” with a wink and a smile, then goes to find a gay old time in the windy city.

Marco is almost as pretty as Hack said he is. He meets a guy, they flirt, they leave, the sex is good, Marco gets back to the team hotel before curfew. 

The next week Matt looks mopey and weird, extra weird, not normal Matt-Goalie-Weird, but sad-weird. Which might be fixable, maybe, Marco hopes so. He starts by saying, “Hey, what’s wrong with your face?”

Matt frowns. “Nothing. Your face is way worse.”

That is obviously not true. Marco still snickers, then says, “No, really, I want to hear about your problems.”

The problem is that Texas and Ontario are very far apart and Matt has broken up with his Canadian Girlfriend.

“Poor thing,” Marco says, taking his best stab at consoling and supportive. “Does this mean I won’t have to pretend to be her?”

“No, I need your help more than ever now. You won’t just have to stand in for my Canadian Girlfriend, you will have to _be_ my Canadian Girlfriend.”

“Or we could get you a Texan girlfriend instead. Just a thought.”

Matt doesn’t want to go out, he wants to mope. 

“Scandy, you don’t get it," Matt says "Relationships are complicated. You have it right to stay unattached.”

Well, that’s one way of looking at it. Being in the closet is a whole other web of complications, lack of attachments, feeling alone sometimes. It isn’t entirely a choice. But hey, the grass is always greener on the other side. Marco would say something if he thought that Matt was thinking things through, not just feeling sorry for himself.

Matt gets over the break up without much more self pity. This is helped along by finally hooking up with Liza, the redheaded bartender who had been hitting on him since the start of the season. Even Marco had been able to recognize that she was a next level beauty, as well as being nice enough to laugh at the terrible lines he used, which were admittedly pretty funny. He collects bad pickup lines so he has something to say to make it look like he’s making an effort while almost assuring that no one will take him up on the offer. 

Liza isn’t the slightest bit Canadian, she’s Houston born and raised. She’s an independent woman and a bit of a badass. She knew what she was getting into when she asked Matt out. She didn’t care that he was a hockey player, she just thought it would be cool if they hung out. From everything Marco gleans she’s absolutely a quality person.

To Marco’s surprise it doesn't last. Matt breaks it off after almost three weeks, the middle bit including a string of Aeros away games. Fortunately the end of this relationship doesn't cause another blue period, Marco doesn't know if he could handle the moaning.

"Does that mean we have to start drinking somewhere else?" Marco asks. "That would suck."

"Nah, it's cool, she's cool, we just didn't want to date."

"Are you through with relationships now? Gonna tell me how great I have it, that I don’t get to date anyone?" 

"Ugh. That was a shit thing to say. Sorry."

Marco shrugs it off. "Eh, I know how you sound when you're talking without thinking."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, that's how you sound all the time, it's the thought you've got to look out for. Who knows what could happen if you actually used your brain."

"Ha ha, very funny," Matt says. "No, I'm not quitting relationships, i just want something else right now."

"Something other than a beautiful woman who doesn't care that you're gone all the time?"

"Yeah, something else."

"Like what?" Marco asks. He doesn't really have a love life of his own, he has to get his thrills vicariously.

“Something different.”

Matt can be vague if he wants to. Marco doesn’t have to be the only one with secrets. “Well, I hope different works out for you,” He says.

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I think different could be really great.”

The next week the team is at the hotel bar in Milwaukee, and a cute girl in a North Stars jersey is very intent on flirting with Matt, who is intent on not flirting back. Marco keeps an eye on the situation, not tracking whatever Kassian is saying. His lack of focus doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Is it your turn to return the favor and go save Hack for once?” Kass asks.

“Looks like it,” Marco says. Matt does have a tendency to intervene when Marco can’t scare girls off with his stunning wit, charm, and smile. It used to bother him, because he knew he could handle shit on his own, now he just appreciates the gesture and the intent behind it; Matt wants to make his life easier.

Marco makes his way to Matt at the bar, intentionally stumbling a bit. He leans heavily against Matt’s back, taking a moment to appreciate how solid and warm his friend is before saying, “I’m gonna head up to for the night. You gonna walk with me?”

Matt lets out an exaggerated sigh for the girl’s benefit. “Roommates: they’re always a bother, you know?” Then he stands and throws an arm around loosely Marco’s shoulder, saying, “I guess it’s time for us to head out. It was nice to meet you.” He smiles at the girl, because that’s the kind of schmuck he is, and then they can leave.

Matt doesn’t let go until they reach the elevator, then he takes a step away to lean against the wall.

“Thanks man. I tried the trusty _Canadian Girlfriend_ line, but she didn’t seem to care.”

“It’s because you’re a shit liar,” Marco says. He likes to think he’s some sort of an authority on the subject. The elevator reaches the right floor and they start down the hall. “You don’t have a Canadian girlfriend, if you did then maybe she would have backed off.” Or maybe not, he doesn’t really understand women. Or men. Or Matt. “I don’t really get why you were working so hard to get away from her, aren’t you still single?”

Matt pulls out his key card while Marco’s still digging in his pockets, then they’re in. Marco sits down on the near bed, letting Matt take the one closer to the window.

“Yeah, I am, how about you?”

“You’re asking if I’m single? That’s a little bit mean, dude.”

“Maybe I want to know if I have a shot,” Matt says.

Marco doesn’t get it. “You don’t need me to be your fake girlfriend, the broad in the bar was more than willing.”

“Yeah, but I’m not interested in _her_ ,” Matt says. 

“Yeah, because you’re weird, or she’s weird, whatever. You should get yourself another Canadian girlfriend, then you’ll have a real excuse and I won’t have to rescue you.”

“What if I don’t want a Canadian girlfriend? Have you thought of that?” Matt asks.

“Do you want a Canadian girlfriend?” Marco asks.

“Not necessarily,” Matt says. “I want a Canadian someone. It could be a Canadian boyfriend. It could be you.”

Marco is shocked at how shocked he isn’t. He’s angry; so pissed and so excited. Normally he’s a pretty chill guy but right now he wants to bite somebody. (Probably Matt. He probably wants to bite Matt, and not necessarily in an intent-to-do-harm sort of way.)

“Why the fuck didn’t you say something?”

Matt says, “It isn’t something we talk about.”

That is more or less true. They don’t talk about it directly, but there is a subtext, that they both know Marco’s queer and Matt isn’t. Only apparently he is. Marco would have liked to know that. He likes knowing things about other people even if he doesn’t like telling other people things about himself. He’s very good at keeping secrets. He’s the most trustworthy person he knows.

“You should have said something,” Marco says.

“When? There was never really a moment.”  
What are moments. That’s a terrible excuse.

“Anytime. Literally, anytime is better than never.” This is information that should have been shared early and often.

“Couldn’t you tell?” Matt asks. “There have been some less than subtle moments.”

Which yeah, that’s true, they flirt sometimes, but Marco had considered it harmless flirting for the sake of flirting, not anything with intent. They talk a lot, so Marco is aware that Matt notices guys too. Marco also knows that understanding when somebody is aesthetically pleasing isn’t the same as being attracted to them; that’s how he is with ladies.

“You didn’t actually say anything.”

“Neither did you,” Matt says.

“You caught me making out with a dude, I didn’t have to say anything.” Hadn’t that been a lot of fun, no, not at all, that had been adrenaline and panic before crashing relief.

“Yeah, and I didn’t make a big deal about it.”

“That makes you a decent human being, not gay! Jesus.”

“Well yeah, because I’m not gay,” Matt says.

How the hell is this Marco’s life. No one in Marco’s life can be gay, not even him. That word isn’t permitted.

“No, of course you’re not gay.”

“Yeah, because I like girls too.”

“Of course you do! Who doesn’t? Girls are great!” Marco may be getting a tad manic. He isn’t the best judge of the situation. “They smell nice and have long hair. Girls are _awesome_ ”

“I like you too.”

This has to stop. This just has to all end. It needs to disappear. He needs to not be having this conversation.

“What. Can we just not? Not whatever.” Marco doesn’t know. “Stop talking. Please.”

“If that’s what you want,” Matt says.

“I don’t like you and I don’t like your face,” Marco says.

“I think you’re lying,” Matt says.

“Shut up. You suck.”

Marco doesn’t want to know what Matt’s expression means. He’s grinning and his eyebrows are raised. Marco groans and buries his face in his hands. This is the worst.

“Hey—It’s alright. We don’t have to talk about it.”

Oh thank god. That’s doable. “I’m really good at not talking about things.”

“Yeah,” Matt says. “Me too buddy, me too.”

They don’t talk about it any more. They go to bed. They don’t talk about it in the morning. There’s no sign they’ll ever talk about it again. It still leaves Marco rattled.

He needs to pin down why this isn’t this a good thing. It is making him feel terribly unsettled. There should be a way to see this as a positive development. Matt is a good-looking man. Matt likes him. These are good things!

At least they could be.

If he met Matt as a stranger in a bar he would be all over that. Only he knows Matt: he likes him, enjoys their friendship, has used their companionship to stay sane. He isn’t sure he would trade that for a boyfriend or friends with benefits or whatever.

Boyfriends are a weird idea. Marco kind of had a boyfriend once in juniors. It was a boy he went to school with, and things were nice, but it wasn’t all that. Breaking up didn’t hurt, it mostly meant a loss of sensation. Losing Matt’s trust could be devastating.

The easiest thing to do is not talk about it so that’s what they do, and it works, after a fashion. It works well enough. Talking about it would probably work less.

There’s a palpable tension between them. They aren’t letting it affect the team. Dating Matt would be a terrible idea. Marco doesn’t think he’d want to date a goalie. Hack isn’t that bad, but he’s still kind of nuts, kind of touchy. What if Marco did something to fuck them up? That would be bad for the team. He can’t let his personal life make its presence known anywhere on the ice. Or maybe that’s just an excuse. 

Not talking about it becomes a routine, and Marco likes routines. He doesn’t need them, but he likes them. He likes it when things stay constant or progress in an expected fashion, which means he isn’t crazy about change as an abstract idea. Individual changes can be either good or bad, but most of the time he would rather have things stay the way that they are.

 _Dating,_ or whatever Matt thinks they should do, would be different. Not bad necessarily, maybe good, but very different.

Marco knows that being a hockey player and being into routines is a cliche, but he doesn’t care, he likes routines. He breaks stereotypes in other ways, like being a hockey player and being into guys. The idea that hockey players have routines is a well worn concept that he enjoys inhabiting. It makes him feel typical, exceptionally normal, which is pleasant and doesn’t happen very often. Having routines is a thing hockey players do. Growing up his brother had routines, which Marco copied until they were his routines too.

There’s nothing wrong about having routines about eating and napping and stretching. These are good routines, they’re useful. Not talking about something this big isn’t exactly a positive rut to get stuck into. They can’t avoid it forever, as much as Marco might wish they could. At some point it will have to be addressed. He should just get it over with, like tearing off a bandaid, instead of dragging it on.

They’re alone in a hotel room in Charlotte when Marco asks, “Exactly what are you looking for?”

Matt shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.”

“I don’t know.”

Someday they will learn to have conversations that involve more than trading the same phrase back and forth.

Matt doesn’t know; Marco doesn’t know what to do with that. “You don’t know; that’s pretty fucking useless.”

“I like you,” Matt says. “If you like me too something could happen. What are you looking for?”

“What am _I_ —? I, you, I. Fuck.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I like you,” Matt says. “Then I remember; it’s because you say such sweet things.”

“Fuck off.” Marco says, then walks away.

Two days later, another hotel room, they’re at it again.

“No really, what kind of question is that?” Matt asks. “What am I looking for? That’s a bullshit question.”

Marco groans. “Well, then how would you phrase it? What are your intentions, Mr. Hackett, if you please.”

“It’s not about the phrasing, it’s a bullshit thing to ask. I like you. I think you’re hot. I’m down with whatever you come up with. What are _your_ intentions, Mr. Scandella.”

His intentions were not to turn this conversation into something from a Jane Austen novel. His intentions were to avoid this conversation entirely.

“I do not know. Honest to god, I have no idea what to do with you.”

Matt’s eyes are dark as he says, “Whatever you want.”

Marco has no idea how to handle a statement like that. It seems absurd that Matt can say that. What does it even mean? “You’re the worst.”

“No, I’m not, but you can say that if you want. You can do whatever you want.”

Marco doesn’t really know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything. He’s sure he’s blushing, but Matt doesn’t comment on it. There is a long silence as they both do other things. Marco wishes this silence could stretch on forever. The could spend the whole rest of their lives awkwardly not talking about things. That’s better than endlessly awkwardly talking about something, which it seems like their destined to do.

 _What does he want_ is a question that won’t leave. It sticks, it lingers, it demands an answer Marco doesn’t have.

In the silence Marco doesn’t find an answer, but he does come up with a new question.

“Why do we have to figure this out now?” Marco asks.“Why do we need a definite answer. Can’t we wait and see what happens? Like, what does ‘dating’ even mean these days?”

These are good questions; they’re opened ended and can inspire debate. Their answers can be found in external sources, they don’t require Marco to know things about himself.

“Dating can mean what we want it to mean,” Matt says. “I guess we could try something casual.” 

“I could do casual if I knew what casual meant.”

“It means we figure it out as we go along.”

Marco doesn’t know if he likes this. He doesn’t like instability. He likes routine. He like order. He likes knowing what is about to happen.

“If we were casual would that mean I would get to kiss you?”

“If you wanted to.”

Marco does want to. Matt’s mouth looks sweet and soft and kissable and right now he knows he won’t be judged for staring.

He wants to kiss Matt.

That would change things.

He doesn’t like change. That may or may not may be a true statement.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Matt says. “We’re maybe being casual, there isn’t any timeline.”

“Awesome.” This means Marco doesn’t have to do anything yet. He can do nothing. He can do anything. There are too many options, too many things that could go wrong. For now he’s going to go be somewhere else.

Being somewhere else will work, at least for a little while, but eventually it’s a matter that will have to be actually be dealt with. Marco really, really isn't good at dealing with this stuff, because it isn't stuff he deals with when there is any other option. He's never really done relationship drama before, because he hasn't really done relationships. He's done not-being-out which is a different type of drama. It’s like the difference between playing with knives or playing with torches. If he slips up he's gonna get hurt, cut or burnt. It doesn't exactly matter how; pain is pain, but it's easier to regrow skin than missing fingers. The point is, it's complicated, and he's in over his head.

There isn't really anyone he can talk to about it, because it's about things he doesn't like other people knowing, and Matt's secrets shouldn't be his to spill.

But brothers are different. Brothers know things even when Marco doesn't say anything, even when he is extra quiet, especially then. That's when they ask questions and want to know what's wrong, because something is wrong, clearly, Giulio says he can tell, which is crazy, because they don't actually talk all that often, and Marco doesn't think he's acting odd—not any odder than usual, at least.

Giulio sees everything with a special big brother sixth sense and he won't be satisfied with a non-answer. Marco isn't just tired, it wasn’t a bad game, there's something going on, and Giulio has to know it so he can take care of his baby brother. He's very insistent. And to be honest, which Marco very rarely is, he wants to talk to someone.

It doesn't take too long to fill Giulio in on the broad strokes of the situation. He already knows about Marco being not-straight, because Marco likes to limit the amount of lies he tells to people he loves. For his own sanity he has to be honest with someone, and he's lucky that it can be his family.

Having to explain Matt is a challenge, which is a symptom of how conflicted Marco feels. He explains everything as best he can, putting it all out there, hoping that his brother will be able to find a solution where Marco only sees a mess.

Marco closes his eyes, but nothing disappears. "Would it be terrible if I told Matt I like him too much to date him?" Marco asks.

There's a pause as Giulio considers the question. "Not if that's the truth."

Truth is an important topic, one Marco doesn’t have much experience with. He lies a lot, mostly with purpose, but sometimes only because it’s habit. It doesn’t matter when he lies; he doesn’t lie about things that could hurt anyone other than himself. When it is working right, all of the lying has few tangible effects, but it does alienate him from the realm of easy truths.

“It wouldn’t be wrong to not date him, but it isn’t fair to string the boy along. If you think it’ll happen: say something. If you don’t think it’ll happen: say something.”

Giulio is right. Living with uncertainty isn’t doing anyone a kindness.

“And if I’m not sure?” Marco asks.

“Well...I don’t know. From here it seems like you like him a lot. It seems like this would be good for you, like it would make you happy. But that’s just how it seems from here, and I could be wrong.” Giulio pauses to take a breath and collect his thoughts. “This is one of those rare occasions where I’m going to say you might not want to listen to me. You should listen to your gut—not your head, because it’s easy to overthink matters of the heart—you need to listen to your gut.”

Marco can do that. Well—he can try. Trying probably couldn’t hurt any worse than inaction. He doesn’t have another plan.

Operation: Gut Listening kicks into gear two nights later, after a few drinks, but only a few, in a hotel room in Peoria. 

Marco does not want to kiss Matt: lie. He does not want to make the first move: truth. He doesn't want to initiate anything: undeterminable veracity. _Anything_ is too broad, initiate is undefined. He doesn't want to ask for anything: mostly the truth. He doesn’t know how to ask: that’s getting close.

Matt could kiss him.

He won't though, because Marco hasn’t said that he should.

It would be awesome if Matt could just read his mind, only no, that would be terrible. Actually, it would be great. If Matt could read his mind then Matt could discover what he was thinking, and it wouldn't be Marco's responsibility to figure that out. If Matt could read his mind they wouldn't have any of these problems.

Mind reading isn't real. It's just make believe, like Marco's heterosexuality and 86% of people's girlfriends in Canada and that statistic. 

He's staring. It's fine. Matt doesn't care if he stares. Matt knows why he's staring. Matt looks back. He can't just sit here and look. Sitting and looking is quickly becoming a routine, which makes Marco uncomfortable. It isn't a rut he wants to get stuck in. 

He needs to do something.

He needs to kiss Matt. He _wants_ to kiss Matt.

To follow through with that impulse and kiss Matt would be listening to his gut.

The key is quick movements. He stands up and walks across the room in three big steps on long legs that take him right into Matt's space. Matt's face is right there. One more half step in, then he's standing on one foot, leaning forward, placing a hand on Matt's shoulder for balance. He has to bend down, because Matt's sitting, but Matt's almost as tall as him, so it wouldn't always have to be this way; wouldn’t it be nice to make out without having to crane his neck?

He doesn't have a chance to think about that. He has to act fast. He moves in the last few inches to press his mouth against Matt's.

He knows the sparks are only there in his head. (They’re a fiction, a lie, a fantasy; they make him dizzy; they make him want _more_.)

He doesn't linger. He pulls away, stands up and walks out of the room. He closes the door behind him and leans against the wall in the empty hallway.

The world didn't end. That shouldn't come as a surprise.

It was just one kiss. It was hardly a kiss. Just a peck. He has to catch his breath. He shouldn't have to.

He is not having a panic attack in a hotel hallway in Peoria. That is not what is happening. He thinks this until it is true.

He kissed Matt and the world didn't end; it didn't even change, not really, not unless Marco does it again. He can if he wants to, but it isn't a question about want, it never has been. He can do it again if he's ready, if he’s brave enough.

He doesn't have to figure that out tonight. For now he can go back in, not make eye contact, and fall asleep. It isn't cowardice, it's protecting his mental wellbeing.

 _Safety_ is a weird concept, a multivalent companion that Marco tries not to think about too much. Safety is some kind of spectacular lie. It’s is never true, it’s always subjective. Safety is something to work for, or to forget about depending on the context. In the context of whatever might happen with Matt safety is far from guaranteed, but then again, it never is.

Hockey isn't a great thing to play if you're overly concerned about your physical safety. He rushes around with knives on his feet, hitting other people with knives on _their_ feet, and sometimes he skates between a puck and its intended target. There are a lot of ways you could get hurt playing hockey, and unfortunately Marco is familiar with a few of them.

As a player still working towards a regular spot in the NHL, "job security" is a scary thing. He really doesn't want to think about it. All he can do is play his best and see what will happen.

Then there’s the last, most important, manifestation of safety, the kind of Safe that means keeping secrets. He isn’t in the closet because it makes his life simpler; it doesn’t. It’s because it’s the safer option. It isn’t certain that something bad would happen if he was out, but well, better safe than sorry, right?

Marco’s made a lot of decisions following that maxim, and it has served him well. 

A few nights later they’re in Cleveland and Marco tries to explain it.

“This isn’t about how much I like you,” He begins. “I like you a lot. That almost doesn’t matter—” That’s true, and Marco wishes it wasn’t. He wishes it was simple, that he could like Matt without worrying about anything else. “What does matter is...” He doesn’t know exactly how to phrase this without sounding fragile, but whatever, he can be brave. “...is whether or not it feels safe.”

"I want you to feel safe," Matt says, which should make this easier, but doesn’t, not really.

"I know that." They would never have made it to this impasse if Marco didn't believe that. "I know you want me to be safe and happy—that's why I can like you. Only there isn't some switch to suddenly become well-adjusted and sane about relationships. If there was I would have flipped it a long time ago."

"What can I do?" Matt asks.

"Nothing. I don't think there's anything you can do," Marco says. "You can be patient, if you want to be. Or I guess you could go try something else, if you wanted to—if you were tired of waiting, of me not knowing. You could do that, if you wanted to."

Marc doesn’t want that to happen, but to be fair he needs to present it as an option.

"I can wait," Matt says.

That helps. Knowing that he has time makes him feel safer, just a little bit safer, and every increment matters.

That conversation establishes that Marco can more-or-less take as long he wants. He doesn’t have to rush into anything, the options he has now aren’t going to disappear. He’s free to go slowly and sort through the matter thoroughly before he makes up his mind.

Of course it is with this new lack of urgency that Marco realizes he doesn’t need much more time. He finds himself accepting what’s going to happen; they're going to "date." It's just a matter of time until he can talk himself into making the first move. It is going to happen, and soon. 

It's excruciatingly exciting, and maybe Marco thinks about this all the time. There's no way of proving that though, because mind reading still isn't a thing, and it isn't like thinking about how he's going to date Matt is a bad thing. It is fine if he thinks about it during dinner; as he ties his skate laces; on the bus overnight from San Antonio; in the shower; at a red light; thinking about it makes him feel swell.

Sometimes the world really sucks; the idea of dating Matt makes it suck less. If the prelude is this nice, actually having a Canadian boyfriend is sure to be an absolute doozy.

Eventually Marco’s done with waiting, he’s ready for what comes next. The team is at home, it’s a Monday, and there isn’t a game til Friday night. After practice Marco says, “We should hang out later,” which isn’t unusual. They’ve spent a lot of afternoons playing video games and talking. This could be any other afternoon.

It isn’t. 

Matt comes over. They settle down on the couch, then Marco says, “I think we should go out.” 

Matt stares at him. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Matt starts smiling. “That’s great. That’s fantastic.”

Marco knows he’s grinning too. “Yeah, it’s awesome.

“Do you want to go on a date now?” Matt asks. “We could go to dinner and a movie. I’d buy you popcorn.”

Marco is looking forward to that so much; going on dates, nights out that look like bro-dates, but they’ll know it’s something more; letting their ankles knock together under the table, letting their hands meet between them on the couch; it’s gonna be a nonstop thrill ride, he knows. But they’ll have time for all the little everyday acts of “dating” down the line, Marco has other ideas for their immediate future.

“That sounds nice,” Marco says, “But how about we stay in tonight?”

“Yeah? Exactly what did you have in mind?” Matt asks.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

Then there’s the kiss he’s been waiting for, their second kiss, the first with any fire behind it. It isn’t particularly coordinated, or even all that good. They’re both trying to move at the same time, trying to get closer, which they manage to do quick enough.

Marco gets his hands underneath Matt’s shirt because he wants to touch skin, he wants more, he wants it all, right now. There isn’t any need to rush. This isn’t a one time thing, it’s their first foray into something lasting. It took them time to get this far, it took deliberation. But now Marco has made up his mind: he’s decided they’re going to be great. This is only the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the bulk of this before Hackett got traded to the Sabres. If you want to avoid the projected unhappy ending you can place this story in a universe slightly to our left, where there wasn't a lockout, and Scandella is the top 4 D the Wild could really use (which he has been so far for the playoff! go Scandy!), and Hackett has spent all season backing up Backstrom. There could also be unicorns in this universe, I'm not sure. I do know that in that ‘verse Minneapolis doesn't get snow storms in April.
> 
> Also, one time Marco Scandella was quoted as saying, “If I was a broad I would be cheerleader, I know all the cheers,” and I feel that’s justification for some of the more colorful vocabulary choices in this story.
> 
> And fuck, I had no idea this story had gotten so long. Sorry? Only not.


End file.
